Bartender
by rscoil
Summary: It's a Tuesday night when Erik meets a lonely singer.


"Go ahead and hit me." The woman nudged the empty shot glass toward him.

Erik eyed her with concern, though he kept his voice pleasant. "That's the third shot of tequila you've asked for in the past hour. What's the occasion?"

"This is a bar, isn't it? Why do I need an occasion?"

"Well," Erik said, "believe it or not, I don't get a ton of people doing shots by themselves at 7 o'clock on a Tuesday night."

She scowled at him. "Aren't you supposed to try and sell me drinks, not talk me out of it?"

He held up his hands. "It's also my job to make sure patrons get home safely. Forgive me, but you're pretty tiny. A third shot in an hour could put you over the edge." He passed her a glass of water. "Drink this down and then see how you feel."

She glared at him, but she sipped the water. "I thought theme bars were supposed to have the whole staff in character." Her eyes swept over his unmasked face. "Shouldn't you be threatening to eat my brains or something?"

Erik chuckled. She, like everyone else, assumed his face was an elaborate makeup job.

"What's so funny?"

"Just thinking about how difficult it would be to do my job if the only thing I could say was, 'Brains!'" He exaggerated the word for dramatic effect.

She giggled. "I didn't think about that. Still, you're awfully nosy for a guy without a nose."

If she only knew. "Humor me. What brings you to Box Five on this most illustrious of Tuesdays?"

"I've been begging my ex to bring me here for months, but he thought the theme was corny and wouldn't come. So, since he decided to break up with me today, I'm here to spite him."

Erik made a sympathetic noise. "He sounds like a prick. Who doesn't love a horror theme?"

"I know, right? And I was going to dress up to come. You see how well that's going."

Erik took in her yoga pants and t-shirt. Her hair was frizzy from the humidity outside and her glasses were slightly askew. He waved a hand. "We see all sorts. No judgments."

"You're supposed to say, 'No, Christine, you look beautiful. He's an idiot to leave you.'"

"That'd be a bit difficult since you didn't tell me your name until just now. But you don't need to be self conscious here. I've never put much stock in physical appearance myself."

"'It's what's on the inside that counts.'" Christine quoted. "That's what they always used to tell us in school. But all that goes out the window as soon as you decide to be a singer. No one cares what you sound like unless you look good."

Erik hid his grimace. That was a lesson he knew all too well. "You're a singer?"

"Yeah, for MMT. They're a musical theatre company across town. But I don't know how long that's going to last. My ex left me for the woman I understudy for."

"Ugh." He shook his head. "Maybe you do need another shot. That's a lot in one day."

"I know. But what can I do? Ditch the job I've worked so hard for?"

"You could try MCLO instead."

She laughed without humor. "I wish! They're almost impossible to get into. No open auditions. You pretty much have to know someone, to even get a foot in the door."

"Well, it's a good thing you know someone, then," Erik said as he retrieved a pad of paper from beneath the bar. He began scrawling out a note as she watched.

"But you haven't even heard me sing. How are you going to recommend me?"

"I saw you perform at MMT last week. I always try to go when Carlotta is out. Between you and I, I cannot tolerate her voice."

"How do you know it was me?"

"I have a very good memory, and I read the cast list. You were the only Christine."

A slight blush colored her cheeks. "If you don't mind me asking, what did you think of my performance?"

"It was leagues ahead of Carlotta," he said as he signed the note. "Your voice is nice and clear. You could stand to relax a little more, but that will come with time." He passed her the note. "Give that to John Poligny and he'll set you up with an audition. The rest is up to you."

She studied the note. "O.G.? What does that mean?"

"Opera Ghost. I make it a point to work when the MCLO group comes in, and the nickname stuck. I know it's Civic Light Opera, but C.L.O.G. doesn't have the same ring to it."

Christine laughed. "No, CLOG is a lot less mysterious." She looked back at the note. "Thank you." She ran a finger over the paper. "You just changed my life and I don't even know your name."

"It's Erik," he said softly. "You may call me Erik."

* * *

A week passed before he saw her again.

He almost didn't recognize her. The woman in his memory (and in the stack of sheet music she'd inspired) was somber and on the verge of tears. The woman who danced through the door of Box Five was a ray of sunshine with a bright smile. He looked up from the cash drawer and promptly lost track of his count.

Meg stepped forward to take the order. "Welcome to Box Five. What can I get for you?"

Christine shifted nervously. "I'm actually here to see a friend. Is Erik working?"

"Depends on who's asking."

"Can you just tell him that Christine is here? Please?"

Meg danced over to him as he finished the count. She lifted the mourning veil of her costume so he could see the wide grin below. "Well, well, well. Since when do you have a friend I don't know?"

He rolled his eyes. "She was a customer last week. I helped set her up for an audition with Poligny."

"Look at you. Playing fairy godmother, I see." She let the veil drop back into place. "Well, as much as I'd love to stay and eavesdrop, I have to run. It's date night and you know how Sorelli is about punctuality."

He watched her flit off to the back room before he turned his attention to Christine.

"Is Tuesday night tequila night?"

She shook her head sheepishly. "No, I just wanted to thank you again for your help. And guess what? I made it in!"

"Congratulations," he said.

"Yeah! It's only ensemble, but it pays as much as my old understudy position. I guess they actually pay their talent."

"They do," he agreed. "They'll do wonders for your career."

"And it's all thanks to you. You were right. It's a good thing I know somebody." She leaned against the bar. "You'll have to come see the show."

"Of course, though you might not see me."

"I understand. But don't worry. I know where to find you." She gave him a small smile. "See you around."

She was out of the bar before he could react. He watched the door swing shut behind her.

A square of creamy white marred the surface of the shining black granite. He lifted the cocktail napkin curiously.

Her phone number was written at the top, with a smiley face drawn next to it.

_It's good that I know someone, but I think I'd like to know him a little better._

_What do you say, Erik?_


End file.
